


post war blues

by Lise



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: (As It Were), Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Developing Relationship, F/M, Identity Issues, Light Angst, Post-Book 14: A Memory of Light, Post-Canon, Rare Pairings, Reincarnation, Relationship Negotiation, look. okay. just look
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Rand shows up in Seanchan with the man formerly known as Elan Morin Tedronai in tow.This isn't the strangest thing that's happened to Min, but it's up there.





	post war blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tedronai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/gifts).



> First things first - I had a fabulous time writing this, even if it took me a while to get traction. It's rare I get to write a pairing I'm really interested in but have never written before for an exchange, and it was a treat - if a challenge - to tackle. What I learned is mostly that I couldn't quite get this particular pair to a full relationship in a reasonable amount of time, but would I like to? Oh yes. 
> 
> If I wrote more in this universe I'd love to go more into kink negotiation things, because my recipient mentioned sub!Elan in their notes and I'm into that idea. Also more poly, because, well. It'd be fun. 
> 
> But for now, have this, with much gratitude to a very helpful beta who checked me for voice and a lot of comma use. Enjoy!

He was staring at her again.

Min could feel the prickling that told her as much, but she didn’t look toward him. He did it a lot, and she suspected at least a fair amount of the time it was to see what she would do. That seemed to be his approach to a lot of things.

Like the issue of his name. The first time they’d had to give their names to an innkeep, he’d supplied “Elan” with a smile. The brief skate of his eyes in Rand’s direction suggested it was meant to be provocative, and he seemed disappointed when Rand just sighed, shook his head, and let it go.

Fortunately no one seemed to recognize the name so far. Min wasn’t sure what they’d do if someone did.

“If you’re bored you can always go for a walk,” Min said coolly, turning the page. “It’d probably be more interesting than watching me read.”

“You read a great deal,” the man who had been known as Moridin, and Ishamael before that, and Elan Morin Tedronai before _that_ , said equally coolly. “That’s different. Lews Therin didn’t care much for intellectuals.”

“Interesting,” she said, still not looking up, and in a tone that she hoped communicated it was anything but. It helped to think of Elayne.

“And what _are_ you reading?” he asked, and that was condescension. Min lifted the book enough that he could see the title: _Turnings of the Wheel._

“Philosophy,” she added. “It’s all right.”

He scoffed. “What passes for philosophy in this age.”

Min looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. “Have you _read_ any of it?” Elan’s lips pressed together.

“Enough,” he said.

“I’m sure.” Min picked up a book from the stack next to her without looking at the title and threw it at him. “Here. You might learn something.”

She was almost disappointed when he caught it, a look of distaste crossing his face. “I doubt it.”

“Then at least maybe it’ll keep you busy for a while,” Min said, “so the _rest_ of us can enjoy our reading in peace.”

“The rest of us meaning you,” Elan said, obviously needling, hunting for a response. “Since your lover has wandered off to dally with one of his other paramours.”

“He does that,” Min said.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Min said. “It doesn’t. So you can stop trying to get a rise out of me.”

Elan subsided into resentful silence. Min glanced at him over the top of her book a few moments later and found him looking out the window, a pensive expression on his face. He got up and left a few minutes later, but she noticed that he took the book with him.

She only realized later that she’d given him _Reason and Unreason_ by Herid Fel, and almost wished she hadn’t.

* * *

This particular situation was fairly new, at least to Min.

Being Fortuona’s Doomseer was not without its satisfactions - not least the satisfaction of being able to face down Seanchan’s Empress in public - but she’d still been hard pressed not to squeal like a ninny and scamper away when she’d spotted a familiar-not-familiar face in the back of the crowd. It was still a little jarring, feeling Rand but seeing dark hair and shockingly blue eyes.

She held it together until she could slip away and follow the bond to a somewhat secluded garden, but Rand wasn’t alone there. With him was a slightly shorter man with narrower shoulders, sleek dark hair and even darker eyes. There was a slight slouch to his posture and a disdainful, irritated expression on his face. Rand smiled when he saw her, the bond glowing with warmth. “Min,” he said, and swept her quite literally off her feet, so she had to hang on for dear life. When he set her back down, she planted her hands on his chest and gave him a shove.

“Aviendha said you would be here last month,” she said accusingly. “What kept you?”

“Ah,” Rand said, and the sheepish expression was almost the same as it’d been before. “That is...complicated.” He glanced over toward his companion, who seemed to be trying to distance himself from them both as much as possible, peering ostentatiously at their surroundings.

Min’s eyes widened and she stared at him. She hadn’t seen at first, focused on Rand as she was, but there were constant flickers of images that flashed around him. It was a continuous series of them like with any channeler, but far, far too many, cascading one over the other fast enough to almost make her dizzy.

“Who _are_ you?” She burst out, and Rand seemed to tense.

“Do you…” He trailed off before asking, glancing sharply at the stranger.

“That is complicated,” he said dryly, giving Rand a hard look before smiling thinly at her.

Min narrowed her eyes. “I’d settle for a name.”

Something strange entered his expression, bitterness and wry amusement. “That’s complicated, too.”

Min scowled and looked at Rand. He didn’t quite fidget, but he did scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “We should go somewhere else,” he said. “This might take a while.”

The explanation Rand gave didn’t exactly make sense to her. At least it didn’t seem to make sense to Elan either. Nor did he seem terribly happy about it. He and Rand argued - or mostly he argued in Rand’s direction - but Min thought it was mostly for form.

At night he stayed up writing furiously, but he never seemed to keep any of it. Each morning, she woke to small piles of ash left on the desk.

* * *

Elan dropped _Reason and Unreason_ on her lap. “I hope you don’t mind that I annotated it,” he said. Min flipped through it, noting the new writing in the margins, and glanced up at him.

“Usually people ask first before marking up other people’s books,” she said. Elan just looked at her, and Min shrugged. “So I guess you found it interesting.”

“Moderately,” he said after a moment. “The author has some...peculiar ideas. Has he written anything else?”

Min eyed him before saying shortly, “No. He was murdered by a _gholam._ ”

“Ah,” Elan said after a moment. He didn’t look awkward, exactly, but he did seem very slightly disappointed. It was hard to read his face, most of the time, but Min was fairly sure that was deliberate. “A pity.”

“He was a friend,” Min added. Elan’s lips thinned.

“Do you expect me to apologize?” He said, voice sharp. “I am not personally responsible for _everything_ done by the Great Lord’s servants. Dark One. Whichever. I would be insulted to take credit for half of it.” Min just looked at him and raised her eyebrows, and he turned away with a scoff. “I’m going to walk.”

“I’ll join you,” Min said. She thought he was going to object, but he just shrugged.

“As you like.”

* * *

Neither of them said anything. Min kept a sidelong eye on Elan, watching the images flickering rapidly around him, her eyes catching on on a bloody pair of hands that kept showing up. She couldn’t tell what it meant, though, or whose the hands these were, or whose blood.

“What are you staring at?” Elan asked, not looking at her. And then, before she could answer, he added, “What do you see when you look at me?”

Min raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He stopped and looked at her. “You see something. It’s clear in the way you look at people a little too long, sometimes. And at me, but not at my face.” His dark, almost black eyes bored into her.

“You’re imagining things,” Min said flatly. She didn’t feel terribly enthusiastic about the idea of telling Elan about her ability. Elan narrowed his eyes, and then glanced away.

“You’re a strange woman, Min Farshaw. Seemingly ordinary, yet you consort with legends. There is something under your surface, and I don’t like not knowing what it is.”

“You’re not used to not knowing things, are you,” Min said coolly. Elan frowned.

“I suppose not.” Now he sounded thoughtful instead of annoyed. “It has been a very long time since anything surprised me.”

“It’s probably good for you,” Min said. Elan laughed, a startled sort of sound that seemed to take even him by surprise.

“You are unexpected,” he said, but now he sounded pleased.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment,” Min said. She caught a very small smile at the corner of Elan’s mouth, but it was gone when she looked again. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little encouraged. “If you want,” she said, “I could dig up some more books for you to be unimpressed by.”

“Why not,” Elan said. “I could use the diversion.”

Min glanced at him and dared to ask. “What is it you stay up writing?”

He was quiet for a long time, and Min thought he wouldn’t answer. “Assorted thoughts,” Elan said. “Nothing worth preserving.”

“Then why bother writing them down?”

His lips quirked, but it was thoroughly humorless. “Reminders of futility.”

Min raised her eyebrows. “That’s bleak.”

“I’ve died twice,” Elan said, his voice suddenly flattening to a monotone. “I think I am entitled to a little bleakness.” He lengthened his stride, and Min let him walk away, frowning at his back.

* * *

Min could tell by the look on Rand’s face and the way Elan was resolutely ignoring them both that they’d had another argument - not exactly rare, that, but this one seemed to have been been bad. She glanced back and forth between them and went over to Rand, patting his chest.

“Why don’t you go for a walk,” she told him. It was a little more than a suggestion. “Maybe a long one.”

He frowned at her. “Min…”

“Off with you,” she said a bit more sternly.

She was a little surprised when he went. Rand did seem to have mellowed, but for the most part he was as stubborn as ever. Min turned toward Elan, crossing her arms.

“Sulking?”

“No,” he said crossly.

“Brooding, then,” Min said, sitting down on the arm of the only other chair in the room. “And I _do_ know brooding. It doesn’t look good on you.”

Elan just barely glanced up at her, narrow-eyed. “What do you want?”

Min shrugged. “Nothing too major at this point. I’ve about had enough of grand destinies.”

“You stand with the Seanchan Empress,” Elan pointed out. Min made a face.

“Sort of,” she said. “Anyway, that’s not a grand destiny, just the result of a stupid mistake.”

“They say you see visions,” Elan said. “But then, those people are very superstitious.”

“Someone’s been poking around,” Min said. She supposed it’d been too much to hope for that he wouldn’t hear that rumor eventually.

“As you observed, I like knowing things.” Elan’s voice was bland, but his eyes were sharp as ever. Min leaned back and pulled out one of her knives, idly twirling it.

“Is it strange?” She asked. “Seeing Rand with your face, I mean.”

“One of them,” Elan said, mouth twisting oddly. “It was a body. I wasn’t too attached to it.”

Min turned that statement over in her mind. Her eyes fixed on one of the images flickering around him: a man bound to a wheel, screaming. She blinked and it was gone. “You’ve lived a very long time, haven’t you?” She said softly.

Elan’s eyes cut to her. “I am - I _was -_ one of the Chosen,” he said. “Of course I have. With interruptions.”

Min left that alone for the moment. “Why do you still call yourself that? You aren’t, anymore. The Dark One is sealed away from the world.”

“For now,” Elan said darkly. “Everything is eternal, and nothing is. Bonds wither and decay. I-” He shook his head, scowling. “This is what your lover and I argue about. Or one of the things. He doesn’t debate well.”

Min just looked at him, waiting. Elan looked back at her, then sighed, steepling his fingers under his chin. “The others called themselves the Chosen because they believed that they _were_ chosen - singled out among the masses to stand above them. I believed - believe - differently. More accurate would be _Those Who Chose._ You of this age tell stories about how we fell, how we were tempted, but Shai’tan did not reach out and point and say, _you, there, I want you._ We walked into Shayol Ghul ourselves. That I died, more or less, does not change that. If anything, the fact that I am back in this body seems a reminder of that choice.”

“The choice to serve him,” Min said. She wouldn’t say the name, certainly not casually as Elan did. “Would you do it again? If you had the option?”

Elan shook his head. “Too many hypotheticals. I couldn’t say.” Min narrowed her eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. “What, you were hoping for a simple _no?_ I’m afraid I can’t give one.”

“Why did you do it in the first place?” Min asked.

He glanced upward, seeming to be thinking. “It seemed inevitable,” he said finally. “I am not certain I believe it isn’t. Your lover disagrees.” He glanced at her. “What do you think?”

“Asking my opinion?” Min asked, raising her eyebrows. Elan didn’t rise to the bait, and she shrugged. “I think some things are, maybe. But some things aren’t. And even when things are, usually there are other choices that can still be made.”

She paused, considering. “I have...viewings, of people. I see things, images around them - sometimes I know what they mean, and sometimes I don’t. And they always come true. But they’re not always strict _this will happen_ \- sometimes it’s _if_ this _then_ that. Conditional. A friend…” Min paused, swallowed. “A friend of mine...I told her that if she didn’t stay close to someone, she’d die. And she did, in the end. Does that mean her dying was inevitable?”

Elan’s eyebrows were knit together. “Viewings,” he said. “Of the future. But it isn’t true prophecy…” He eyed her. “When you first saw me. You knew before al’Thor said anything that I was...different. Is that why?”

“Yes,” Min said. “Most people...I might never see a viewing. Channelers, they’re always there.”

“Hm,” Elan said. “Greater impact on the Pattern? I wonder.” He looked distracted for a moment, then his attention snapped back to her, eyebrows smoothing out. “And what did you see, Min Farshaw?”

“Too much,” Min said honestly. Elan laughed, a little hollowly.

“Yes,” he said, “that sounds about right.”

* * *

She was swimming in her own personal pond (there were some nice things about serving the Seanchan Empress) when Rand walked up and sat down, taking off his boots and sticking his feet in the water.

“I hope those aren’t dirty,” she called. “You’ll foul up my swimming hole.”

Rand just smiled at her, and Min couldn’t hold on to her scowl for long. She swam over and leaned her elbows on the edge, looking up at him.

“Where’d you go?”

He looked sheepish. “Two Rivers,” he said. She cocked her head, and he shrugged one shoulder with a half smile. “Faile has a new baby on the way.”

“Did you at least stop in to say hello?” Min asked. Rand’s sheepish expression deepened, and she splashed water in his direction. “Well, you’ll have to go back. Perrin probably knew you were there anyway.”

“Probably.” Rand’s smile faded. “And you? Elan was...asking me questions.”

“Not surprising,” Min said. “We’ve been talking a fair amount.” Rand’s eyebrows shot up, and Min raised hers. “You weren’t expecting that?”

“Not...exactly.” He settled back on his hands. “How does he strike you?”

“Tired. Confused. Bored. An inveterate cynic. Why?”

Rand looked up at the sky, those still startling blue eyes half closed. “You’re smart. You see things that other people don’t - that I don’t. And I don’t...I feel like I’m meant to do something with him. For him. We were...connected. Maybe still are. And he’s...Elan’s always been complicated.” He dropped his head back forward to look at her. “He seems to like you more than me.” A quick grin. “Not that that’s surprising.”

“Flatterer,” Min said amiably. “We’ve had some good conversations. Or at least I think they’re good conversations. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” She examined him. “It might help if you treated him more like a person than a project, you know.”

Rand blinked at her. “I’m not-” He stopped. Visibly thought about that. “Well. Maybe I am. It’s hard not to feel...obligated.”

“I’d guess that’s part of the problem,” Min said. Rand sighed.

“Are you telling me I should try to argue with him less?”

“Oh, no,” Min said. “I think you should argue more. As far as I can tell it’s one of his few joys in life.”

Rand laughed, that fond smile back again. “Thank you. I am fortunate to hear the words of the Doomseer Darbinda.”

“You certainly are, sheepherder,” Min said, and dragged him into the pool.

* * *

Rand left. Elan declined to join him. “At least here, you will know that someone is supervising me,” he said dryly, with a glance at Min. Rand didn’t look happy about it, but Min made a little shooing gesture and mouthed _go_.

“I’m not going to supervise you,” Min said once Rand was gone. One of Elan’s eyebrows twitched up.

“That is a relief.”

“I thought it might be.” She tapped her foot on the floor. “I’m glad you’re staying. It’ll be good to have some non-Seanchan company for a change. They’re not all bad, but they are sort of maddening.”

“These were the people Semirhage chose to use,” Elan said, sounding thoughtful. “It makes a certain amount of sense. She always liked order, and these Seanchan certainly seem fond of that.”

Even after everything, it still sent a little chill up Min’s spine to hear anyone mention one of the Forsaken so casually, with such familiarity. And that one in particular. She managed not to shiver, but one of her hands did check on the knives up her sleeve.

“You met her,” Elan said, not a question.

“Yes,” Min said after a beat, keeping her voice steady. “She used some kind of male _a’dam_ to make Rand try to kill me.”

Elan didn’t look surprised, but there was a flicker of a frown, a line that appeared between his eyebrows almost like disapproval. “For someone with your history,” he said after a moment, “I am surprised you manage my presence with such...equanimity.”

Min cocked her head to the side. “You’re not exactly the same person, are you?”

“A different face changes the person?” Elan said, voice dry again. “Surely you don’t really believe it’s that simple.”

Min shook her head. “No, but - you’re not connected to the Dark One anymore, are you? You’re free.”

“For a given value of free,” Elan murmured. Min chose to ignore it.

“And you don’t seem in a rush to do much more than read and write things that you end up burning, neither of which seems very evil to me.”

“Mm.” Elan was frowning at her again. Min raised her eyebrows at him.

“Still trying to puzzle me out? I’m not _that_ complicated.”

“All people are complicated,” Elan said, sounding almost distracted. “It’s in the nature of humanity.”

Min let him stare into the distance for a little while before speaking up again. “Why did you decide to stay here? It seems like you’d be getting restless by now.”

“The pleasure of your company,” Elan said. Min narrowed her eyes, but one corner of his mouth twitched up. “I am aware of how that sounds. But it’s not meant to be snide.”

Min leaned back in her chair. “Are you saying you like me?”

“You’re a worthwhile companion,” Elan said. Min eyed him, but there was that hint of a smile again, just barely. And a new viewing: a bird with a hand cupped over it, but she couldn’t decide if it was smothering or protecting.

“Thank you, I suppose,” she said. “I guess I should be flattered.”

“You aren’t?”

“Not flattered,” Min said after a moment. “But I’m glad. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“High praise,” Elan said. Min smiled at him.

“Go get me some scones and I’ll come up with higher.”

Elan scoffed, but later in the evening there was a basket of warm scones on the table by her bed.

* * *

Someone tried to assassinate her. It wasn’t the first time, and they weren’t very good at it, but Min still ended up with a nasty cut in her arm. Not even poisoned, fortunately.

Fortuona said that Min ought to be flattered she was considered important enough for assassination attempts, which - as far as Min was concerned - just affirmed her belief that everyone in Seanchan was a little bit mad. She was offered Healing, but Healing from the _damane_ made Min’s skin crawl.

She didn’t expect Elan’s reaction.

“What happened?” He demanded. “I heard there was an assassination attempt. Against you.”

“There was,” Min said. “But I don’t think they were even really trying.”

Elan’s usual expression of boredom was gone. He was frowning, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. “You seem very cavalier about this.”

“I’ve had a surprising number of people try to kill me since I left home,” Min said. “One assassin who botched the whole thing doesn’t even come close to the scariest.”

“You’ve been injured,” he said. “Doesn’t this place have any channelers who could heal that?”

“They do,” Min said, “but they all wear collars and leashes and won’t look me in the eye and get alarmed when I try to have a conversation with them. I feel like I’m taking advantage. And I’m not dying, so…”

“I never learned much Healing,” Elan said, frowning at her arm like it was a personal affront. Min shrugged.

“That’s fine. I hurt myself worse than this learning to use knives.” Elan made a sort of “hmm” noise that didn’t sound approving.

“Are you fussing at me?” Min said, raising her eyebrows. Elan’s expression went blank.

“I don’t _fuss._ ”

“Good,” Min said firmly. “I don’t need it.” She settled down into a chair, curling her feet up under herself, and studied him. “Thank you for the scones.”

“You promised me higher praise,” Elan said, something arch in his voice. Min laughed.

“All right,” she said. “I like you. When you’re not thinking about it, you’re a fairly decent person, at least now. You’re smart; I like smart people. And you have good cheekbones.” Elan stared at her, and she shrugged. “A girl can’t help but notice.”

“ _Cheekbones,_ ” Elan said, sounding incredulous.

“That’s what you’re stuck on?” Min said. “I thought the ‘decent person’ would get to you more.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are al’Thor’s lover.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Min said. “I’m not making any offers. Just commenting.” But because she was feeling a little cheeky, she added, “I haven’t even mentioned your nice bottom.”

Elan’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he thought _she_ was mad. Min held back the urge to cackle.

Then his face shuttered, lips tightening. “You are mocking me.”

“I’m not,” Min said, sobering. “I meant every word.”

His expression didn’t relax. “Why should I believe you?”

“You made me scones,” Min said. “Why would I lie?”

If Elan were sitting, she thought he would have leaned back away from her. As it was, he looked her up and down like he thought she might be hiding some secret under her clothes. She just looked back at him, waiting.

“Good cheekbones,” he said at length. “Really.”

“I honestly did think the decency comment would get more of a reaction,” Min said. Elan shook his head.

“I should perhaps give up on trying to fathom you, Elmindreda.”

Min wrinkled her nose. “Who told you _that_ name?”

Again, that minute twitch of his lips. “One can find out all sorts of things if one knows where to look.”

* * *

Min woke up from a nightmare she hadn’t had in a long time: Dumai’s Wells, fire and blood and death. She was alone, stumbling through a field of tattered bodies that no longer even looked human.

No use trying to go back to sleep, so she sat up, rubbing her face, and went to go find a book. What she found was Elan with his head on the writing desk, apparently fast asleep on a pile of pages.

Min cleared her throat loudly and he started up, his head whipping around to stare at her wide-eyed before his expression cleared. There was a smear of ink on his cheek.

“You’re lucky you didn’t tip the candle over and light everything on fire,” Min said.

“I wasn’t intending to fall asleep,” Elan said. He looked down at the pile of paper he’d been using for a pillow. “I was...working.”

“Oh, yes,” Min said. “On your masterwork that you keep setting on fire.”

Scowling at her, Elan pushed the pages away. “It is hardly worth wasting the time on something no one of this Age could comprehend.”

“You might be surprised what people of this Age can comprehend,” Min said. “But suit yourself.” She sat down. He was frowning at her again.

“Why are _you_ awake?” He asked.

“Bad dreams,” Min said simply. “Same as you, I assume.”

His scowl deepened. “I have better things to do than sleep.”

“Mm,” Min said. For a second she thought he was going to throw something at her, but then he turned back and picked up the paper. Light flashed and it crumbled into dust.

“I do not have bad dreams,” Elan said suddenly. “I learned a long time ago to control my dreams. To create my own.”

“What kinds of dreams do you make?” Min asked, curious. His expression went blank.

“Nothing,” he said. “Dreams of nothing. It’s very quiet.”

Min leaned back on her heels, then slowly went and sat down. “It’s very sad,” she said. Elan looked at her, eyebrows raised. “That you’re so jaded that you can’t see the beauty in things anymore.”

Elan shrugged. “Beautiful or not. Everything is ground to dust in the end. It reforms, only to be ground down again. Endless. I have never liked circles. Everything needs an end-point.”

Min propped her chin on her knees. “You’re awfully morose tonight.”

“Am I?” Elan brushed his hands off. Min chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before she made herself stop.

“Why do you think you’re here?” She asked. Elan raised his eyebrows.

“Because al’Thor has decided it is his duty to supervise me and I don’t have anything better to do?”

“You could easily leave if you wanted to,” Min said. “You can channel. You could make a gateway somewhere else. Anywhere else. But that’s not what I meant, anyway. Why do you think you came back to life?”

“I’m inclined to believe that the Creator has an unfortunate sense of humor.” Min just looked at him, and Elan sighed. “I don’t particularly believe there is purpose in anything. Sometimes there is no _why._ It is humanity’s foible that they seek to impose order on a meaningless chaos.”

“Or,” Min said, “that just means we create our own meaning.” Elan looked at her, eyes narrowing, and Min shrugged. “It’s a different way of looking at the same idea, isn’t it? If there’s no purpose, no underlying meaning already in place - we make our own. And it falls apart, but then we bring it back together again. Cycles.”

Elan’s expression relaxed. He looked...thoughtful. “It’s the cyclical that’s the problem. That binds humanity to the same ends, over and over, interminably.”

“Or that gives us another chance,” Min said. “Nothing ever ends. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“Hm,” Elan said noncommittally. Min raised her eyebrows.

“Does that mean you’ll think about it? I have some books you could read.” Elan gave her a look, and Min grinned at him. “Don’t worry. None of the rest of us know what we’re doing, either.”

Elan’s eyebrows twitched, ironic and wry. “That’s meant to be reassuring?”

“Hmm-mm. At least you know you’re not alone.” She walked over, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. He gave her a startled look, and she smiled at him. “You think too much. You should pick up a different hobby. Dancing, maybe?”

“No,” Elan said firmly, but the flickering smile looked a little stronger.


End file.
